All the Time in the World
by AragornofRedwall
Summary: Just a little idea that blipped into my mind. I guess I'll finish Outcast and write in A Knife in the Dark while working on this. I just can't quit wanting to write more Merlin!
1. Prologue: So It Begins

All The Time In The World

Prologue: _So It Begins_

She looked down at the cauldron as it bubbled and frothed ominously.

"_The fools thought they could stop me. Well now they have failed. I shall have my kingdom, and my revenge!"_

As the smoke filled the room, she spoke the words of the spell, her voice climbing slowly from a whisper to a voice loud as thunder.

"Time the cage, time the foe before whom all mortals fall, time the undaunted foe, bend your will to mine!"

With a flash like lightning and a triumphant howl, the witch disappeared, the hovel a pile of charcoal behind her.

"What news from Mithian?"

"They've made it safely through the winter, and will repay the loan by summer."

The blonde-haired king nodded.

"Send her word that there is no hurry. Camelot had much better luck with last year's harvest."

Leon bowed and left the room, a smile on his face. His affection for the princess (and her returned feelings) were well known, and Gwaine and Percival had been running bets to see who would speak first the next time the kingdoms held court together.

Merlin lay his hand on the side of Arthur's chair.

"Something bothering you sire? You look pensive."

"I've made another one of _**those **_mistakes."

Merlin chuckled knowingly.

"You forgot Gwen's birthday again didn't you?"

Arthur gave him a look that crossed between a glare and a glance.

"What do you mean _**again**_?"

"Why I mean that-"

With a flash like lightning the King and the Magician disappeared, the chair a pile of ash on the cold stone floor.


	2. Chapter 1: When We Are

Chapter One: _When We Are_

When Merlin awoke, he was lying on a hard cobble-stone street in a dirty alleyway. Judging by the sun, it was about noonday. To his right, Arthur was half-sitting, half-leaning against a red brick building. He crawled gingerly over to the king, checking himself for bruises and cuts on the way. When Merlin reached him, Arthur's eyes were closed, and there was blood on the back of his head. Taking him by the shoulders, Merlin shook him desperately.

"Arthur? Arthur, wake up!"

The blonde figure groaned and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"I'm still trying to figure that one out. It looks like we're in some sort of street, though where I'm not sure."

"Then we'd best find out."

"Give me a moment to look at that cut on your head."

Merlin smoothed away the matted hair and uttered a quiet spell to heal the wound.

"Hælan."

Nothing happened.

"Hælan!"

Again, nothing happened.

"Merlin? Is something wrong?"

Merlin swallowed hard.

"My magic won't work."

"What?" came Arthur's shocked question.

"My magic won't work. I don't know why. Perhaps there is no magic in this world. Perhaps it's a side-effect of whatever brought us here. Whatever the reason, I'll worry about it later, once we know where we are and why. Now give me a moment to look after that cut!"

Arthur muttered under his breath, a curmudgeon-bear of a patient as always. Merlin carefully wound his scarf over the wound, patting the matted hair back down to help stop the bleeding.

"I'll have to clean it later. Can you walk?"

"Of course I can walk!" Arthur huffed. He rose quickly to his feet, walked three steps forward, and fell flat on his face.

Merlin shook his head.

"Bloody good thing you're not wearing armour." he observed as he looped the king's arm over his shoulder.

"_Lovely," _he thought. _"We're in an unknown land where my magic is useless and Arthur is suffering from blood loss. At least we've got Excalibur." _

Cautiously the pair made their way down the alley and peeked 'round the street corner. What they saw shocked them. A bustling city lay before them, wagons, carriages, and pedestrians filling the streets. The pair of them made their way through the street and stopped before a tall brick building. A middle-aged man with a cane sat on a bench near a pair of large oaken doors.

"Excuse me sir, but where are we?"

The man looked a little taken aback at the question, but he answered kindly enough.

"You're in Richmond, Virginia."

"And where is that?"

The man chuckled.

"That is currently the subject of some debate."

He jerked his thumb towards the door.

"In fact, they're discussing it just inside."

"What year is it?" Arthur queried.

"Why it's the Year of Our Lord Seventeen-Seventy-Five."

The man looked at Arthur. The king's face was pale.

"Is your friend alright lad?"

"I think he will be, thank you. You say the men inside are deciding where this city is?"

"Not exactly. They're more interested in who _**rules **_the area where this city is. You could probably step inside and listen, provided you don't make much noise."

"Thank you."

The man smiled kindly, and rose to open the door. Merlin gingerly stepped through, careful to fit Arthur through the door behind him. They found a pair of empty seats along the back wall to the left of the door, and sat down to listen.

"What does it matter what they decide about who rules?" Arthur whispered. "This isn't our land."

"It is until we can get back home. Besides, we have to find out who and what brought us here, and for what purpose."

Arthur sighed. He knew Merlin was right. Until they could get back to Camelot, they were involved in the problems of whatever world they might be in. The pair of them focused their eyes on the podium at the front of the room, where the man speaking had raised his voice so the entire room could hear. The gentleman in question looked like a young man, in his late thirties or early forties. He wore a dark wig on his head, and had a determined visage.

"The war is inevitable – and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry Peace, Peace – but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery?

Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me Liberty or give me Death!"

The man stepped down from the podium, his speech met with applause by his audience.

"Well then," said Merlin. "I suppose that explains the situation."

* * *

The pair of them made their way out of the building and saw the same man sitting on the bench, now with a pipe in his mouth. The smoke curled calmly upwards and floated away, making a rather stark contrast to the atmosphere of the room they had just left.

"What's your name lad?"

The man once again had a smile on his face.

"You know there's room enough for two on this bench. Your friend could probably use a the rest."

Arthur nodded his thanks as Merlin eased him onto the bench.

"Pipe?" the man asked.

Arthur shook his head.

"Just a breath of air, thank you."

Merlin leaned against wall brick wall of the building, attempting to collect his thoughts.

"I asked you a question son."

Merlin looked up quickly.

"Sorry. My name is Merlin."

"Interesting name that," the old man said as he stuck out his hand.

"My name is Marion. Henry Marion."

Merlin shook the man's hand warmly. Henry then turned his face to Arthur.

"How about you lad? What's your name?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who nodded imperceptibly.

"I'm Arthur."

"Pleased to meet you Arthur."

Marion offered Arthur the same greeting he'd offered Merlin, and Arthur returned it gratefully.

"How'd you get that cut on your head?"

"I tripped."

Henry grinned.

"Not my business anyway. It looks like you both could use some help. Come along to my home and we'll get your cut cleaned out and some food in your belly."

"Thank you," Arthur replied.

Merlin looped his friend's arm over his shoulder once again, Marion took hold of his cane, and off they went, weaving their way through the busy streets of a city soon to be engulfed in war.

* * *

_**A/N: **_**The word "hælan" is Old English for "heal".**

**To those who may be curious, the gentleman at the podium was Patrick Henry, and the speech he made was an excerpt from his address of 23rd March, 1775 , to the Virginia House of Burgesses. **

**Next chapter soon, schedule and imagination permitting.  
**

**God bless!  
**

**-AoR/Jake  
**


End file.
